Just another day at the office
by Tom Sullivan
Summary: Basically just a story I wrote inspired by COD 4. Please bear in mind I'm 12 so please don't criticize too harshly if there is a lot you don't like about it. Hope you enjoy it! Rated T for a few instances of profanity and heavy violence.


Captain Warren could hear the rotor blades of the MH-60K Velcro Hawk helicopter slice through the cold Siberian air. Frankly, it was all he could hear since the din of the engine drowned out all other noise. Warren was relaxed. He had been through this billions of times so he had learned to control the fear that grips every man of the special forces before they get dispatched into a hostile zone. He stared at the man crouched opposite him. He was quite a bit younger, with ginger hair and a slightly sheepish expression on his face. This was his first mission. Warren glanced at his digital watch.

"You better do a last check over!" he yelled at the other two men that formed his squad. There was also a Colonel and a door gunner cradling an M60 machine gun in the compartment.

"Gotcha Captain." replied Private Smith in equal volume.

The other men just replied with lock and load sounds. Warren fixed a clip into his MP5 sub machine gun and made sure the safety was on, before buckling the strap of his helmet and screwing a suppressor onto the barrel of his MP5 as well as a shiny new 1911 pistol. He noticed the redhead was fumbling with his identical weapon.

"You'll do fine, just remember everything you learned in training and above all: stay calm."

The words appeared to have an effect on the new guy who stopped messing about and mouthed to himself "I'm ready." Everyone was still for a few more minutes until the pilot yelled that they were approaching the drop zone. The squad moved toward the door. They did not have back packs, just a few pouches strapped to their khaki assault vests. The mission wasn't supposed to last long.

"All right men listen up! We are going low to avoid radar detection. You will be dropped fifteen klicks from the compound. It is on a bearing 20 degrees. You know the drill, get in, get the prints, get out. The extraction point is five klicks south of the compound. You have four hours of daylight left so get a move on!" the Colonel barked.

"Thirty seconds, red light!" called the pilot.

"Get set!" called Lieutenant Jackson, a man from Texas. The helicopter stopped in midair and began its vertical descent onto a flat area of land.

"Ten seconds, green light, doors open!"

The gunner heaved the heavy steel side door open. The four soldiers jumped a few metres to the ground one after another and the helicopter door clanged shut. The men watched the 'copter disappear into the distance, then began their trek across the bumps and boulders toward their target.

After about ten minutes the Captain gave the order to halt. The compound was located in a valley a hundred metres down a slope from where the men were standing. Warren did a survey of the compound with binoculars. It was basically a fenced off area of five hundred square metres. There were several wooden huts located outside the perimeter fence-guards quarters and a large concrete building with several vents puffing steam inside as well as a garage with a few rusty trucks in them. Warren could also make out two dozen figures strolling about outside. Three of them were hanging around the only entrance of which a single road led out of that then snaked around the mountains and out of site. Warren cursed under his breath.

"We have a problem." he informed the other troopers. " To find a way in. We can't simply cut a hole in the fence in case we are discovered. Private Smith!"

"Sir."

"Take Malone and do a reconnaissance of the place. But first we need to take out the guards in those two watch towers. Lieutenant , come with me."

The four men jogged downhill then crawled to the ladder leading up the fifty metre high tower. Warren and Jackson began their ascent, leaving the two privates at the bottom to keep watch. Warren quietly climbed the final rungs then stepped through the hole at the top to find himself facing the back of a guard armed with a Dragunov sniper rifle. Flicking out the blade of his knife, he slit the throat of the guard who dropped to the floor instantly. He handed the sniper to Jackson.

"Cover us from here. Inform us of anything via the radio."

"Alright. Good luck. Try not to kill too many people in there."

Warren replied with a salute and a grin, then slid down the ladder.

"We're all set Captain." said Smith.

"Good, and I have an idea for getting in."

"Do you think I should go in the other watch tower and snipe for you?" Malone inquired hopefully."

"Nah, we need you inside." Then, catching on to what Malone was hoping, said. " Listen if anything happens in there, don't yell out." Warren laughed. "Just sit tight and we will come and get you. Trust me."

"What's the plan?"

" Its almost time for dinner. We spike the food. Half the guards will be off our backs. Then we stow away in an incoming truck and find the blueprints. Then get out the way we came. Should be easy enough."

"Don't you think that they will notice them missing?"

"No, only half the guards are on duty at a time. The guys that are having dinner have just finished their shift. They won't be due outside for another four hours, so like the Colonel said, we better get a move on."

Warren approached the rickety wooden door that led to the mess hall in a crouched position. He looked through a crack and saw a man wearing a filthy apron stir a huge pot of soup that was placed on a paraffin burner which was being powered from a canister of gas. This guy obviously had no idea about basic fire precaution. However, the wooden buildings were damp due to the presence of slushy snow and ice. He yelled something in Russian, then turned and began to walk toward the door.

"Damn! Hide!"

The cook swung the door open with his foot just as Malone dived behind a mossy rock. He yawned, then strode briskly toward the main gate, leaving the door wide open.

"Keep watch Red." Ordered Warren, addressing Malone.

"Yessir."

Warren stealthily headed inside with Smith behind.

"Come on, there must be some of the damn stuff here!" he complained as he searched a cupboard.

"What?"

"Rat poison!"

"Here." said Smith, holding up a small bottle of odourless liquid with a skull and crossbones on it.

"Thanks." thanked Warren, before emptying the bottle into the disgusting substance he recognized as borscht and stirring it well with a ladle.

"Phase one, complete." Warren announced as they rejoined Malone. "Now for the key phase-getting in."

The troopers jogged away from the huts-passing a window emitting the sound of a Russian folk song, until they were one hundred metres from the main gate. There, they crouched behind a group of conveniently placed boulders, and waited. After a few minutes, the noise of an engine could be heard, and sure enough, a truck drove up to the main gate and stopped for the drivers papers to be checked.

"Go! Go! Go!" Warren whispered urgently. The three men jogged to the open backed truck and hopped in.

"Under the tarpaulin." Seconds later, the truck whirred into life again and began its short journey to the hanger. Usually the truck would have to be searched, but the guards were lazy and didn't bother. No one could get in. Or so they thought. Once Warren heard the driver leave, he gave the order to move.

"The blueprints are going to be in the main block. Let's go." The troopers crouched behind the truck and started toward the door at the back of the garage. Suddenly several voices could be heard gradually getting louder.

"Bugger! Under the truck!" Four men came into the garage. They walked around to the back of the truck and began unloading crates.

"They're going to be ages, Sir." whispered Smith.

"Get ready to move on my mark." Warren said.

"I think we should wait, we could compromise ourselves." Malone input.

"Just follow my lead." a pause. "Go! Go! Go!" One by one the soldiers slid out from under the truck and slipped through the door, Smith closing it behind him. The trio head down the short passage until they came to a T junction.

"Left or right? Your call Red."

"When we looked on the building from outside we saw the garage was connected to the left of the main block. So right will lead us deeper to the complex."

"Nice thinking. Move."

The troops came out into a large rectangular room that was in three sections. They were on the ground level. Around the wall there was a steel walkway with stairs leading up to an identical walkway around the first level and down to a basement laboratory. Warren could see several components of nuclear bombs in isolation chambers. Thankfully, the lights above them showed: UNARMED WILL NOT EXPLODE. The troops stepped back to avoid being seen. Warren radioed to Headquarters.

"Base one this is Alpha eightyeight come in over." There was a crackle of static then the radio emitted a voice. Warren pressed his ear to the set and struggled to make out the message.

"Base one here, report, over."

"Base one we have successfully infiltrated the compound without being discovered, over."

"Whats the problem? Over."

"Base one my I please speak to Colonel Fox? Over."

"Colonel Fox here."

"Sir we have located the room with the blue prints."

"Good, now get out of there."

"We have found a lab where they are developing nuclear weapons, request permission to engage and destroy."

"Permission denied. It's to risky to launch an assault like that. You have a new objective. Gain all the INTEL you can on the layout of the compound so that we can launch an attack later. Keep a low profile. Do not expose yourselves. We cannot let them know that we are on to them. Out."

"Understood. Out." Warren turned to the other men. "We have to gather any info we can on this place so that a full scale assault can be planned, no orders to engage, got that?"

"Yes sir"

"Yes sir"

"Lets hurry this up, I'm getting a bit bored. Umm, plan, plan. Red, go upstairs find a good spot to hide and warn us if anyone is looking. Smithy, follow me."

"Alright." Malone followed Warren's orders while the other two headed downstairs.

"Stay low, go and search those drawers and I'll see if I can make any use of my technology training." Warren said as he gestured to a computer built into a control panel. The troopers went about their searching unaware that they were being watched.

Lieutenant Jackson was getting irritated that he had been left in this old tower to freeze. It had been forty-five minutes since the others had left. He was dwelling in his own misery when he spotted something that really made him mad. Guards flooding into the main block. His hand shot for his radio.

"Stan! Stan!" he yelled, forgetting that he was not allowed to refer to an officer that outranked him by his first name.

"What! What's the matter?!"

"Tangos Swarming the main building!"

"Jesus Christ! Just… kill as many as you can!" And then the radio cut out.

Even a trained proffessional panics when everything goes wrong. Warren, Smith and Malone had all passed the same course, had all been taught the same techniques for every situation. But now, they were just acting instinctively, fighting for survival. Guards were swarming from every nook and cranny. When one of them fell, another took their place. Warren knew that for some reason the stew hadn't been eaten, and right now he didn't care, he just cared about getting out alive. Malone had joined them in the basement. He seemed to be alright, but deep inside he was probably pissing gallons.

"Cover me!" Smith yelled. He ducked under a desk, then pressed his radio to his mouth.

"Base one! Base one! We have been compromised! Repeat! We have been compromised! Urgent assistance required!"

"Understood Alpha eightyeight. We are dispatching a TH. Hold tight."

"Received." Smith turned to the others. "We need to get outta here! The helicopter is on it's way!"

"No way through the doors!" Warren called as he emptied a clip on an incoming group of guards. "Punch a hole in the wall! There's a rocket launcher in a rack over the other side of the room. Smithy go and get it. Red, plant some claymores around and form a defensive perimeter. Move!" Smith jumped over a work bench and fired a few shots at a guard who was running at him. He was about to run for the RPG but found his path blocked by several soldiers. He was out gunned. "I can't get to the luancher!" he he yelled at Warren.

"Just hold them off! I have an idea!" Warren started turning on gas taps like there was no tomorrow, amidst the bullets raining down on him.

"I'm running out of clips here!" Malone cried.

"Nick a Kalashnikov then! Arrghh!" Smith shouted out as a bullet grazed his soulder.

"Take cover! I'm gonna blow this place!" as guards overran their position Warren lit a piece of wood from one of the miniture fires made by the granades. He held it to the gas and threw himself clear. Men screamed as the roof of the building was ripped of and a cloud of smoke and fire.

"Let's go!" The Marines clambered out of their hiding places and sprinted across the debris littered ground.

"Alpha eightyeight this is Raven. ETA one minute." Came the muffled voice of the pilot.

"Thank god!" sighed Malone. A few rounds came the way of the men.

"We gotta finish the job." said Warren. The few remaining guards started a half hearted pursuit of the Special Forces guys who raised their rifles. An unlucky guard got struck in the head by a bullet out of nowhere.

"Jackson!"

" The one and only!" The troopers looked up to see the 'copter coming down. The guards took aim and opened fire, but the door gunner and his M60 saw to them. Lieutenant Jackson was sitting with his legs dangling out of the compartment with the Dragunov on his lap. He high-fived the others as they climbed aboard.

"We are go!" the pilot announced as the helicopter increased height. The squad let off a sigh of relief. Commander fox came out of the cockpit and addressed them.

"Alpha Squad eightyeight, this was the first time you guys were working together, so altogether a decent perfromence. However, you did not complete your primary objective, which was to steal the blueprints undetected and gather INTEL on the area. It seems your appetite for destruction was fed yet again Captain Warren. I accept that you had no choice but to engage. You have also saved us the bother of attacking the compound again. Thanks to you, we have also destroyed any capability this milita group have of creating nuclear weapons. Your plan to nuetrilize the guards was well conceived, but didn't work out for whatever reason. A positive report then Captain Warren, congratulations to you too Lieutenant, for a display of exellant marksmanship. I believe that another operation is coming your way Squad eighty eight.

"Thank you sir." the men replied. Warren watched the sunset across the mountins, then dropped off.

Ten days later, Chernobyl Outskirts, Ukraine. 15:00 hours. Squad eighty eight were sat in a slightly different Helicopter from the one that had served them in Siberia. The UH-60 Black Hawk-appropriately codenamed Blackbird, was not taking them directly into a combat zone yet, they had just been told that they were meeting up with some people that could help them. That was all they had been told. They were dressed in loose khaki tunics and trousers. Smith wore a bandage on his shoulder.

"We are coming in to land." The pilot informed Warren.

"Back in this goddamned place." The Captain sighed. "Give me a hand with the door Red." Malone reached across and helped slide the steel door along.

"Everyone out!" ordered Warren. They hopped out of the plane and looked around. There were a lot of run down apartment blocks, rubbish and scrap. That was about it. The helicopter took off behind them.

"What a dump. I used to live in Detroit but this is a real ghost town." commented Smith.

"And where are the people we are supposed to be meeting? I hope they're not like those goddamn civilians I met back when I was in Desert Storm."

"Won't find any civilians in Chernobyl." Warren unnecessarily reminded him. The squad swung their packs over their shoulders (minus Smith, who held the strap) and walked across the cracked tarmac.

"I think I know who our contacts are." groaned Malone, pointing to a rifle propped against a wall sprayed with graffiti. "SA-80s. Brits."

"I think your right, Red."

"Hey! You lot!" They turned to see Colonel Fox striding toward them with another soldier armed with a shotgun. "Welcome to this jolly city. Follow me." The group walked across a patch of overgrown grass and smashed concrete to a stripped out apartment block. "After you." Fox stood back to let the squad pass through the entrance. "In that apartment." The main room of the place was bare, but filled with men and equipment. Colonel Fox did the intoductions. "Well, as you might of already guessed, the people we're meeting are from the British SAS. All of you move over there and we will breif you on the situation." Eight soldiers moved to the rear of the room, leaving Colonel Fox and a British Officer standing at the front. "First of all, United States Marine Corps Alpha Squad eighty eight meet Special Air Service twenty second regiment Delta Squad." There was a slight stirring in movements and murmured greetings between the two Squads. "Because both Squads will be working together as a unit for this operation, I think it is important to know who we are. I am Colonel Jack Fox."

"Captain Stan Warren."

"Lieutenant Paul Jackson. You can call me Tex I guess."

"Private First Class Scott Smith. Smithy will be fine."

"Private First Class Brady Malone. You can call me Red for obvious reaons." Some laughter. The British officer stood up. He had serious grey eyes and a black mustache.

"Colonel Harvey Clarke. No nickname." he said stiffly.

"What a tight ass." Smith whispered to Malone.

"Captain Tom Sullivan. You can call me Sully. And you Yanks can thank people like me for St Patricks day." Laughter.

"Second Lieutenant John Hall."

"Trooper Dan Carter. Or Strike."

"Trooper Lee Buddy. Nickname self explanatory."

"Well now that we are associated with each other it is time for the mission breifing. Colonel Clarke?"

"Yes. Ahem. You have been brought here for a most important Operation codename: Silence. A recent mission by the American squad destroyed the base of the Russian Milita group headed by Boris Petrov. He was trying to construct nuclear weapons there. Now that his lab has been destroyed, he is buying arms en masse off another Russian, Daniil Kazakova. Petrov and his followers are in hiding deep inside the city. It is our hope that we can assasinate Petrov while a weapons deal is going down and he will be in the open. Unfortunately Intelligance indicates that Kazakova will not be making the deal personally, thus obliterating any hope we had of killing two birds with one stone."

"Thank you, Colonel." Fox unfurled a large map. "The eight man team will be dropped deeper in the city. Head through the city until you reach the landmark of a burnt out Ferris Wheel which is located 20 klicks from the drop zone. The team will split there. The British team will go around the front of this large housing estate and cover the Americans as they move up this tower block where from the roof here; Lieutenant Jackson-with his creditable sniper record, will make the shot. You then get out anywhere you can, but remember: The helicopter can't land under fire. Any questions?" No one raised their hands. "Good. Now get your gear sorted. No backpacks, take an assault vest, a rifle and a pistol each from our collection. We don't want to spend any longer here than we have to." The men moved forward.

"Come on boys be loyal to your country." Warren said to his squad as he picked up a customized M16A4 with a shortened barrel, red dot sight and grenade launcher.

"Nah, be original I say." replied Smith. I prefer the Heckler and Koch G36C. High rate of fire, effective at medium range. "What about you Lieutentant?"

"M14, single shot, high power. Good long range accuracy. Nice for a marksman like me. Got to carry this sniper too. M24. Standard issue.

"Look at those Brits and their Enfields." Malone tutted as he fixed a clip into his chosen weapon, a Belgian FN SCAR. "Those things jam like hell. Now look at this." He said, holding up a 1911. Entered service in 1911. Still being used nearly one hundred years later."

"Alright that's enough talking about guns. Do a gear check. And then do one again, got that?" ordered Warren.

"Brit boys, you too." Said Captain Sullivan. All the soldiers began shoving things into pouches and checking clips, zipping up tunics and doing up straps.

"Alright, the transport is here. Let's move!" Colonel Clarke barked. They went out back to the stratch of tarmac to find a huge Chinook tandem rotor helicopter awaiting them. The troops walked up the rear door which had come down to form a ramp. "Don't make yourself at home!" Colonel Fox advised. "You're jumping in four minutes. Toss your packs down and just fix your parachutes." The two squads started conversation with each other. It was mostly to your opposite number so Warren moved in to talk with Captain Sullivan.

"So, Sully. You get up to much during your time?"

"Ah yes. Stan isn't it? Well I just always wanted to be the best. I lived in London for a time so I got used to being around the English. So I joined up. Training was living hell but I got through it and here I am. What about you? I heard about your little Siberian misadventure."

"The less said about that, the better." Warren shuddered as he recalled the incident.

"I see one of your lads got a nick didn't he?"

"Oh, crap I forgot." Warren said urgently. He dashed over to Smith who was chatting to Buddy.

"Smithy, you are cool about going back in right?"

"I was wondering when you would say that. And yes sir."

"Good. Not that it would of mattered at this stage."

"Get ready to jump!" Clarke yelled. The troops moved toward the door.

"This is your pilot speaking. Wind speed is calm travelling 2kn in a north easterly direction. Red light."

"Green light!" Sully called as the rear door swung open. The eight men leapt out down three hundred feet down.

"Squad! Regroup on me!" Warren said as he gathered up his parachute.

"Come on, let's get this done.!"


End file.
